


rage

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rampant A.I. and a man with a fragile mind is not a good mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rage

You don’t know what brought about the change in Locus’s attitude. You don’t know what happened to land you and your squad in the Federal Army Base’s prison cells. What you do know is that Locus showed up at your table in the mess hall, wrestling you into handcuffs before you could get a word in edgeways.

You’re stripped of armour and the black Kevlar under suits, shoved into ratty clothes and put in a cell with the others in your squad. Lopez is taken away, powered down and thrown into the incinerator. Sarge says a few choice words about that. You have to admit that you kind of miss the robot and his terrible, broken Spanish that you could barely make sense of. It puts a damper on the mood of the cell without the robot there, more so than the quiet or the fact that the three of you are chained to the walls.

They’re systematic about the way they tie the three of you up. You can’t reach other; the chains don’t allow you the luxury of roaming far. You’re fastened to the wall across from Donut whilst Sarge is chained to the back wall. Donut keeps up his endless stream of chatter, keeps up that act of bright optimism. Franklin Delano Donut annoys you to no end, but he does know how to break an otherwise awkward silence.

“Lyin’ dirtbags,” Sarge grumbles. “Throwin’ us in here with no warnin’! Takin’ our robot an’ killin’ it! Dirtbags, the lot of ‘em!”

“I’m sure this all just a mistake, Sarge,” Donut says. He’s still got a bright smile on his face. The smile takes your attention away from the dozens of little white scars littering the left side of his face. “They’ll let us out soon enough.”

“Locus knows what he’s doing, Donut,” you say. Both sets of eyes go to you. Your voice is hoarse from not being used these past hours. “He wouldn’t lock us up like this by accident and just let us free.”

“They did the first time we got here.”

“Locus doesn’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Wash –“

The door to the cell slides open.

Locus stands in the doorway, still in armour and hands held behind his back. Rake your eyes over the steel and green armour; take in the blood stains on his boots and across his chest plate. When he walks into the cell, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. Your eyes narrow when he doesn’t reveal his hands, when he’s careful to make sure you can’t see what he holds behind his back.

You want to ask him what he’s hiding from you. You want to know why he’s not already shown you. Instead, you say, “How nice of you to finally visit. Now, care to tell us why the fuck we’re being treated like fucking criminals?”

“When you crashed on this planet,” Locus says, ignoring your question, “There were two others with you: Agent Carolina, and Artificial Intelligence Program Epsilon.”

“They went missing after we crashed,” you spit bitterly, remembering the abandoned sniper rifle on the cliff top and the hastily scrawled note that simply said ‘Sorry’ taped to it. The fact that your sister just ran off and left you in that canyon still doesn’t sit right with you. “No idea where they went. They’re probably on the other side of the galaxy by now.”

“ _Wrong._ ”

The way Locus says that sends a chill down your spine.

“Agent Carolina was able to infiltrate our Command Centre and murder the operatives there. She then posed as our superiors and controlled the Federal Army through the Centre.”

There’s a smirk on your face. “Good old Carolina. She’s running you idiots for loops.”

“She _was_.”

Lose your smile.

“I figured out the identity of Agent Carolina. I tracked her down, discovered what she had done. She was still at the Centre, waiting for me, and she was in no shape to fight. The A.I. Epsilon was going rampant, and she appeared to have very little control over him. That led to her downfall.”

Feel your blood run cold. “What?”

Locus’s left arm twitches. He brings his hand into view, reveals the aqua coloured Rogue helmet he’s holding. He throws it to you. Watch it hit the ground and bounce, roll over and come to a stop in front of you.

There are three pairs of eyes watching you carefully as you reach out with a shaking hand, as you pick up the helmet carefully. You know it’s hers, because all the scratches you memorized are in the same place, because there’s the little crack in the upper left corner, because you can see the fucking bright red hairs sticking to the inside of the helmet. What makes your hands shake is the blood splattered up the right side of the helmet, the obvious bullet hole through the right side of the visor, right where her eye would’ve been.

You think you’re going to be sick.

“I brought you something else.”

Look up, feel the blood drain from your face when you see the A.I. chip in Locus’s other hand, the familiar ε emblazoned on it. There’s a ghost pain sparking at the back of your neck; memories of a blonde haired woman and pain. Involuntarily, you reach up and rub the neural implants along your neck, the port where they implanted Epsilon the first time round.

“A.I. have always fascinated me,” Locus says. He takes a step closer to you. Press yourself up against the wall; brace your hands against the floor. Sarge and Donut follow Locus with their eyes whilst you keep your eyes on the chip in the mercenary’s hand; ignore the way your heart speeds up.

“One of the things that fascinates me the most is rampancy,” Locus says, turning the chip over in his hands. His helmet turns to face you. “And what effects it can have on a human mind.”

“No,” you say when he steps closer. Hold an arm up – as if it will protect you. “No, please.”

He grabs you by the shirt, forces you to lie on your front. You start struggling, kick out when he presses his knees down against your biceps and crushes your abdomen into the ground. His hands are cold on the back of your shirt, pulling the hem away to reveal the port in the back of your neck.

You hear the sounds of chains moving; hear Donut and Sarge shout at Locus to stop but he ignores them, presses a hand down against your head in an effort to stop you from moving. You realise there are tears running down your cheeks, panicked breaths escaping you. Your heartbeat is loud in your ear, too loud.

“Please,” you plead, though you know he won’t listen. “Please, don’t.”

He ignores you. You’re sure you hear a laugh.

He pushes the chip into the port.

Epsilon powers up. And his fury hits you.

_HE KILLED HER. HE FUCKING KILLED HER._

He’s screaming, screaming and raging inside your head. He’s white hot pain, searing his way through your nerves. He’s agony, making you scream the moment he wakes up. It’s worse than your first implantation, when his memories where only of Allison. Now he’s showing you images of your sister, showing you her death and making you feel his pain, the pain he was forced to feel when that bullet tore through her eye and brain. He replays it over and over, screams in your head.

“STOP, PLEASE!”

You’re her, watching as Locus approaches you. You’re watching her try to fight him, try to empty a clip of bullets in the mercenary. You’re watching him break her wrist, knock her to the floor. You’re feeling that bullet rip through her head.

“ _Please._ ”

Epsilon doesn’t listen. He screams and screams. He’s memory, pure memory. That’s all he ever was. Just memories. And now he’s rage as well. Rage and memory, tearing your mind to shreds and you’re helpless to do anything but scream until your throat is bloody and raw, scream as he tears the last of your sanity apart. He shatters your already cracked mind, causes you so much pain you’re numb.

And he keeps tearing away little pieces of you in his rage, until there’s nothing left.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by tumblr user kalmoony
> 
> yeah, i wrote carwash siblings in there B)


End file.
